


Brush the Cobwebs (Out of the Sky)

by Lisztful



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: M/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-29
Updated: 2010-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-06 19:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisztful/pseuds/Lisztful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern au. Arthur is the high school golden boy who can't understand why he feels so trapped. Then he meets artsy college boy, Merlin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brush the Cobwebs (Out of the Sky)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the kink meme 8 prompt: "Arthur/Merlin, modern AU. Highschool!Arthur and college!Merlin. I just want to know how their story would be like if Merlin is somewhat older/maturer without them OOC (like, Arthur is still the golden boy, handsome jock in school. Merlin is being his usual self in university setting, rather geeky? Indie?)Please note that Merlin is the adult (well, young adult) here, and Arthur is just still a teenager. But how their relationship would go is up to the author. Who take the lead? Who dominate? Things like that."
> 
> Crossposted to my journal so I can fix typos, etc. I went to an American high school, so rather than try to wrap my mind around the British school system, I just went with what I know. Also, the title is a Radiohead quote.

Arthur knows he won't always be on top of the world. High school's almost over, and then the world's going to get a whole lot bigger, a whole lot scarier. For now, though, it's fall, and everything around him smells of leaves and something else, something deep and musty and old. Arthur's dad keeps the house full of the aromas of pumpkin and apple cider, and sends him out to run drills in the yard. Arthur led his team to victory at the county championships last year, and his dad's hoping for another win. He wears his faded Harvard pullover to all the games, twists his class ring while helping Arthur with his Advanced Placement calculus homework.

Yeah, life is good, and there's some party tonight. Girls, man, his teammates say. College girls. If only they knew.

In the mornings, it's English, then art class twice a week. Art is his worst subject, though that doesn't mean he's really bad at it. Arthur pretty much has this high school thing under control. "Shows potential," his grading comments always read. "Just missing something. Reach farther inside."

"That old dragon," Arthur mutters.

"Old queer, more like," Owain says. He doesn't seem to notice Arthur's flinch.

They win the homecoming game. It wasn't an extremely close match, but it also wasn't unchallenging. The other team put up a reasonably good fight. No matter how easily they take the victory, it still gives Arthur a rush, throwing his arms up in the cool but not cold air as the marching band plays their victory song, a little too loud and mostly out of tune. The stadium lights make his skin tingle, and for a moment it all goes fuzzy, the cheerleaders shouting and his teammates rolling around on the muddied ground. He can hear thunder in the distance, and he hopes the rain will hit some time that night. Something feels pent up inside of him.

"Come on, man," Leon calls, and slaps him on the back as they jog off the field toward the locker room. Leon's always been good to him. He never says anything, even though he's caught Arthur looking at him more than once. He's a good guy.

The party's on campus. They live in a college town, so it's relatively easy to catch a bus to the center of town, where the buildings are old and solid and each have their own story. Around this time of year, the historical society does a ghost walk, wearing dumb outfits and talking about the old legends. Arthur always goes, if he can sneak away from his friends.

The party is in one of these buildings. It's a house party, but since the kids who rent the place are all college students, the crowd is mainly populated by their classmates. Arthur isn't sure how they got an invite. Lancelot's brother, maybe. He's older.

Owain was right about the girls. There are all sorts here, people with tweed and expensive cigarettes, people in baggy jeans who drag Arthur over to take a few shots in the kitchen, a few girls in sparkly halter tops, sequins glistening as they catch in the lamplight. Everyone is dancing, packed closely together and grinding to the heavy, raw beat of a stereo system turned up much too high. Arthur feels a little sick.

He finds beer and more liquor in the now deserted kitchen. He takes another shot, enough to start feeling fuzzy, then grabs a beer and slips outside. It's pitch black but for a few distant cigarettes, the tips glowing orange.

He's a little beyond tipsy, swigging his beer as he feels around for the porch steps. He drinks with his friends on a fairly regular basis, but tonight he's dehydrated from the game, and the strange restlessness still has him feeling uncomfortable, almost prickly. He sighs and takes a too heavy seat on the porch step, brushing against someone else in the dark.

"Sorry," Arthur mumbles, hoping it's not someone he knows.

The person beside him chuckles, and it's a dark, rich sound. It's a boy. Arthur reaches for his cell phone and flips it open. The light is feeble, but for a moment he glimpses a dark-haired boy, clad in close, dark denims and an artsy looking plaid shirt. The cell phone fades to black just as the boy raises a red plastic cup to his lips.

" 'S ok," the boy says warmly, and when he leans closer, Arthur can smell gin. It's not unpleasant. "This is my favorite time of year," the boy continues. "You feel like anything can happen. My name's Merlin, by the way."

"Arthur," he replies, and feels Merlin's hand, warm and smooth against his own, and surprisingly strong for someone so slender.

"You go here?" Merlin asks, and though he seems perfectly composed, something about his tone betrays that he's had a few drinks.

For a moment, Arthur considers lying, but he's never been good at that, not when people ask him a question directly. "High school," he admits, "But I'm eighteen. I'm a senior."

Merlin chuckles. "Well. That's not so young." Arthur hears the cheap plastic of his disposable cup buckle against his fingers.

"Want a refill?" he asks, surprising himself.

Merlin laughs again, warm and close. "Know how to do a gin and tonic?"

"Easy enough," Arthur says, and stands. "You'll be here?"

"I'll be here," Merlin says.

He comes back with the drink a few minutes later, having successfully avoided Owain's drunken gesturing. He's completely plastered. Arthur hands off the drink, then sits down again. He can feel the brush of Merlin's thigh against his, and it's the boldest thing he's ever done with another guy.

"Strong," Merlin says appreciatively, and passes it back. "We can share."

Arthur takes a sip. It is strong. It feels good, the strange dry, hot feeling as it passes over his tongue and down his throat. He's never been a gin drinker before, but this might be enough to convert him.

"So, you go here?" he asks, and passes back the cup.

"Yes," Merlin says, and takes a sip. "Second year. History major." He takes another swallow.

"I like history," Arthur says honestly. "But I like lots of stuff."

"For instance?" Merlin asks, and sounds genuinely interested.

"Football," Arthur says. "Math, sometimes English. Maybe art." He takes a gulp of the drink. "Boys." Maybe he's a little drunk. It feels good, saying it out loud. He's never said it to anyone, before, just thought it, over and over in his room and the locker room and in class, watching Lancelot lean back in his chair and cross his legs expansively.

Merlin laughs and fumbles for the cup. His hand travels down the length of Arthur's arm, searching for it. "I like all those things too," he says. "Mostly the last one. Well, not football so much, although I sometimes like to watch." His palm feels unbelievably warm against Arthur's skin, and he stays there for a moment, almost holding Arthur's hand but not quite.

"Why history?" he asks, feeling distantly as though he ought to be flustered.

"I've always liked old things," Merlin says, and there's something alight in his voice. Arthur's pulse is fast, and there's something almost electric in him. "I don't know. I like mysteries. I like looking at things that people used ages ago and trying to figure out what it meant to them. What made things important to other people. That kind of stuff."

"I like that," Arthur says, and it's true. There's something very compelling about this person.

"Wanna dance?" Merlin asks, and oh god, he does.

Inside, the rest of the lights have been turned off, or maybe people have just tripped over the cords and done it by accident. The living room is packed with gyrating bodies, all fuzzy and indistinct in the thick, smoky air. The song thrumming out of the speakers feels dirty against his skin, and Arthur finds that he really likes it. Merlin takes him by the hand and drags him out into the center of the mass of people, and then they have no choice but to slide together, pressed close by all the people around them.

Arthur's hands are clammy, and he isn't quite sure what to do, but Merlin doesn't look at all put out. He lifts Arthur's arms up to wrap around his shoulders, then cups his hands around Arthur's waist and sways into him, nudging his legs a little farther apart so he can slide his thigh between them. It feels filthy and wonderful, and Arthur pants into the sensation, his eyes wide as he lets his body move in time with the music and with Merlin's graceful rhythm. Merlin throws back his head and laughs, a delighted sound that is swallowed up by the crowd, but that lingers in Arthur's ears as Merlin tugs him closer, his breath warm on Arthur's cheek.

He wants to kiss this person, this strange, fey person who is so unlike anyone he goes to school with, who knows he likes boys and likes it, likes him. He wants to do it, so he does, and it really is that simple. He's kissed girls before, but this feels all new, and he feels as though his knees might buckle as Merlin groans and leans into the press of their mouths, parting his lips and oh god, licking.

It's possible that this goes on for hours. He feels as though he could kiss Merlin forever, and he says so, whispers it in his ear before licking a path over the shell and biting at the lobe. He wears a little gold ring in his ear, and Arthur pulls gently at it with his teeth. Merlin moans and pulls him back for another kiss.

There's a hand on Arthur's shoulder, but he shrugs it off, irritated about the distraction. He's got Merlin in front of him, and regardless of just having met him, he doesn't want to let go any time soon. The person doesn't go away, though, and when he finally turns around, it's Leon.

"C'mon man," he says. "We gotta go." He looks embarrassed, but not repulsed, and that's an unexpected reaction.

"I gotta get home," Arthur tells Merlin, his fingertips still pressed into Merlin's hair.

"Okay," he says, with a silky smile. "Hey, I work at the bookstore downtown on weekday evenings. The one with the coffeeshop. You should come see me, we could hang out."

Arthur's heart feels impossibly light. "I'll do that," he says. "Bye Merlin."

"Night," he says, and as Arthur pulls away to follow Leon through the crowd, he drops one last kiss on Arthur's knuckles.

"Dude," Leon says on the bus, crammed together to avoid Owain, who looks like he's about to puke. "Had a good night?"

"Yeah," Arthur says quietly, and it feels like a weight is lifting off his chest. "Yeah, I did."

"That's cool, man," Leon says. "Just so you know."

Arthur waits almost a week before he goes to the bookstore. He doesn't want to look like a desperate high school kid, and he's a little worried that whatever Merlin liked about him while they were drunk in the dark will have worn off. Still, Merlin did invite him, so he steels himself and walks a few calming circles around the shop before going in.

Inside, it's bright and cozy, and there's nobody there except for Merlin. He's sprawled out in a comfy looking chair with an open book, and there's a laptop on the floor beside him, blasting some sort of indie band music.

"Hey," Merlin says warmly," and Arthur's stomach lurches a little. He's in those tight, slim jeans again, and he has a tee shirt with a deep v neck on, one of those trendy brand name things that looks ordinary but is actually American Apparel or something. He's got a knit cap in bright blue pulled loosely on, and his hair looks dark and soft where it peeks out beneath it. He looks like he would be a poet or something, or one of those people Arthur sees reading Spin magazine at the bus stop, or maybe painting something abstract on a public wall. Arthur feels sort of uncomfortable in his button down and faded jeans.

"I thought my imagination might've been a bit optimistic," but apparently not," Merlin says, and grins disarmingly. "You want some coffee? I'm about to have some."

"Yeah," Arthur says. "Thanks." He follows Merlin to the espresso counter. Merlin pushes through the swinging half-door and starts reaching for various implements. "What do you like?"

"Um," Arthur says, "Coffee?"

"Not big on the espresso stuff?" Merlin asks, and he doesn't look scornful or anything, just curious.

"I don't really know," Arthur admits.

"Okay," Merlin says easily. "You like your coffee dark or more light and sweet?"

"Dark," Arthur says, a little more comfortable. "Black."

"Okay, we'll have a shot, then something nice and dark," Merlin says. "I promise you'll like it."

He grinds the beans, then begins a complicated process that Arthur only half follows, more interested in gazing at Merlin's face. He looks happy, animated and very self-assured as he catches the espresso in two tiny cups, pulling them away just before the stream of hot liquid ends.

"Last bit's always a little burnt," he says. "Trick of the trade." He swirls his cup a little, looking down at it. "How was your week?"

"Pretty good," Arthur says. "My dad made some awesome soup. He's a great cook. I dunno, school, football practice, kinda the usual. We have a game tonight, beginning of the play-offs. We qualified again this year. What about you?"

"Good," Merlin replies. "Classes. Readings, working on a paper, that kind of stuff. I'm learning all about the Assyrians right now. Ever heard of them?"

"Not really," Arthur says. "Tell me more."

It's exhilarating, getting to share in the things that make Merlin alight with interest. He makes ancient history fascinating, and he takes it all in, greedily, so much knowledge he'd never known to look for.

"Football?" Merlin says later. "Tonight, you said?"

"Yeah," Arthur says. "Seven Thirty. I have to head over around six."

"Cool," Merlin says. "I'll go. I like football."

"You don't have to," Arthur says.

"I want to," he says, grinning. "As long as it's okay. There's always hot chocolate, and I can wear my scarf. I love autumn."

"Okay," Arthur says, and he feels his face stretching into the beginnings of a grin. "Yeah. That'd be cool."

Merlin walks him to the stadium. "It's early," Arthur says, tucking his hands into his pockets. "What're you gonna do for all this time?"

Merlin laughs. "Read. I didn't feel like being inside. Soon it's gonna be too cold to be outside."

"Oh," Arthur says. "What're you reading?"

Merlin glances down at the book under his arm. It's got a clear plastic dust jacket and looks like it once belonged to the library. "It's called the House on the Strand," Merlin says. "Have you heard of it?"

"No," Arthur says. "Tell me more."

He plays extremely well that night. His dad comes to every game, and he's had girlfriends, too, who either came to watch or were already there as cheerleaders. This is different, though. Merlin is a whole different world, and he's here to watch Arthur just because he wants to. Not so anyone else will know he did it, or so he can critique it later. He just wants to. Arthur is exhilarated, and no one can touch him on the field. The victory is overwhelming.

His dad finds him, afterward, and pulls him into a hug. "That was phenomenal," he says, and laughs a little. "Whatever you were doing there, keep doing it."

"Thanks," Arthur says breathlessly. "Thanks, dad."

He pulls back and lets his dad recap the game, talking about his favorite moments and answering a few questions. People in the crowd are swirling by, patting him on the shoulder or reaching to high-five him. It feels good. He sees Merlin behind his dad, grinning broadly. His cheeks are a little pink, and he looks cozy and completely kissable in his blue hat and a matching scarf, tucked loosely around his neck.

"You were amazing," Merlin calls over the crowd, and Arthur suddenly doesn't care about anything except being close to this wonderful, mysterious person, so he reaches out a hand for him and pulls him into a hug, close enough to whisper "thanks" in his ear. His dad's right there, but so what, he hugs people all the time.

"Go out with me some time?" Merlin mouths against his ear, and he nods violently, almost clipping Merlin's chin.

"Yes," he says in a fervent whisper. "Definitely."

So they go out to dinner, and it feels weirdly grown up. Arthur tells his dad he's going to hang out with friends, and his buddies that he's got work to do at home. He doesn't think anyone concerned will show up at the Thai restaurant in the college district. His friends are mostly pizza and soda kind of guys.

"So you're not out," Merlin says matter of factly, and dips his chicken satay in the peanut sauce. His fingertips are glistening with oil, or some other food ingredient, and Arthur desperately wants to lick them clean.

"No," he says, "People aren't—It wouldn't be okay."

"Yeah," Merlin says thoughtfully. "It's harder in high school. In college, as long as you don't go to a religious school or something, it's usually more okay. I don't really have problems. Is your family religious?"

"No," he replies, "But my dad talks a lot about me starting a family. My mom died when I was a kid, so I think he wants lots of grandkids to make up for not getting to have any more kids of his own. You know, keep the family line going."

"You can still start a family," Merlin says. "There are lots of different ways. Don't feel like you can't have stuff like that."

"Yeah," Arthur says thickly. "Okay."

The conversation drifts, but never falters. Merlin seems to know something about everything, and to enjoy sharing it with Arthur. It's strange, being around someone whose life is so different from his own. He's always felt happy at school before, an athletic and academic star, well liked by all, but Merlin makes him long for something different. For him, actually.

Arthur insists on paying for dinner. He works part time at the YMCA, lifeguarding and teaching little kids to doggy paddle. Merlin grins and allows it, and reaches for his hand when they get outside the restaurant.

"Walking again?" Arthur asks, and Merlin nods.

"You know, a lot of high schools have some sort of queer straight alliance thing," Merlin says. "You're not alone, there would be other people to talk to. People to support you, you know?"

"I'd have to tell them all that I've been hiding," he says softly, and Merlin squeezes his hand and leans in against him. "I know. It was just a thought. But nobody's going to be mad at you for being scared."

"Oh," Arthur says. "Okay. I don't know. I- people would hate me."

"You'd be surprised," Merlin says, and as Arthur starts to slow, "This where you live?"

"Yeah," Arthur says, and drags his feet a little. It's dark, and a little cool, and his dad has the shades drawn. He hates when people can see him watching CSI through the window.

"C'mere," Merlin says, and hooks a finger into the neck of his shirt, pulling him in for a kiss. It's scary, kissing him in the open where anyone could see, but it's also amazing. Merlin is amazing. He makes a soft, low noise when Merlin licks into his open mouth, and dares to wrap his hands around Merlin's slender hips, slotting their bodies together and feeling the press of Merlin's body against his own.

They pull back breathlessly, after a few moments, and Merlin's eyes look wide and dark. "I don't really know what I'm doing," Arthur admits, and the insane excitement turns a bit to nausea. His hands are shaking.

"It's okay," Merlin says, and kisses the tip of his nose. "We can take it slow. If you're into this, I mean."

"I'm into this," Arthur says, and kisses him again.

"Go to bed, school boy," Merlin says finally, laughing. "I've got homework for my morning class."

"Yeah," Arthur says, "Okay." He brushes one last kiss against Merlin's cheek. "Thanks for tonight, it was really fun."

"I had fun too," Merlin says. Call me? You can stop by the bookstore tomorrow, if you want. I won't think it's too eager or whatever. Maybe I'm too eager."

"I think I am too," Arthur says, and he's definitely blushing. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Inside, his dad is watching tv, a paperback novel open over his knee. "Arthur," he calls, "Come here."

He steps into the living room. It's warm and shockingly bright, after being out on the porch for so long.

"For future notice," his dad says, "Making out on the front porch isn't the sneakiest thing in the world."

"Oh," Arthur says stupidly, and there's that queasy feeling back again. "Sorry."

"You gonna introduce me to this guy?" His dad asks, and he sounds perfectly calm. "How do I know he's not a creep?"

"Oh," Arthur says again, slowly. "You don't hate me?"

"Arthur," his dad says, and moves the book off his leg, standing. "I'm incredibly proud of you. I just want you to be happy. If this is- how you are, then sure, I don't mind. But don't think that means you get to have sleepovers or anything. I'm not that naïve."

"Dad," Arthur says. "I'm not ready for that stuff anyway. "We're taking it slow."

"Good," his dad says. "So. Boys? Or just this one?"

"Boys," Arthur says firmly, and it's amazing to talk about it. "But this one in particular."

"Okay," his dad says. "Invite him over for dinner."

He tells Merlin about it over coffee. "My dad doesn't hate me," he says, and grins broadly.

"Of course not," Merlin says warmly. "So dinner, that sounds great. You said your dad's a good cook."

"He's probably going to give you some sort of talk," Arthur says. "He's like that."

"That's okay," Merlin says smoothly. "I'm good with parents."

So Merlin comes to dinner. Arthur's dad looks suspicious at first, but somewhere between "I'm Uther Pendragon, hurt my boy and I'll show you exactly what I learned in the police force," and "Pass the potatoes, sir," Uther learns that Merlin is a history major, as was he.

"Just terrible, those votive figures from Umma being stolen during the Baghdad raid," his dad says, shaking his head. Merlin nods and says something about the Stele of the Vultures, and Uther says, "You know, I think you're an all right kid."

"I hope so, sir," Merlin says. "I like your son rather a lot."

After that, Arthur tells his dad when he's going out on a date, which is often. They go to movies, or go to the trendy college kid restaurants downtown. They hang out at the bookstore and talk about everything, and Merlin admits to his extreme caffeine addiction and makes Arthur mix cds. "Everyone likes Radiohead," he says, or "This one made me think of you." Things feel slow and easy, not rushed. Merlin never pushes him before he's ready for something.

In November, he starts attending QSA meetings. He's terribly nervous before the first one, but when he steps into the classroom during free period, a pretty girl with long, dark hair ushers him in. "It's okay," she says. "Nobody's gonna judge you here. I'm Morgana. This is my girlfriend, Gwen."

"Hi," Arthur says nervously, and shakes both their hands. "I've never done anything like this before."

"Don't worry," Morgana says. "We're here to support you."

"I'm Arthur Pendragon," Arthur says later, "And I'm really, really gay."

Everyone claps, and Morgana says, "You're not the only one."

Sometimes they talk about politics, gay rights and stuff, but mostly they just hang out and get to know one another. Morgana's the leader of the group, and Arthur can understand why. She makes him feel immediately at home, and she's obviously really smart. She wears tee shirts that say "This is what a feminist looks like," and sometimes she waves her tattered copy of Dream of a Common Language around for emphasis, her long hair swinging behind her. "My lady's gonna be a doctor," she says one day, and presses a reverent kiss on Gwen's brow.

"PDA," says Viv, who taught Arthur that bisexuality is not a synonym for undecided. "But cute."

"Do you have a boyfriend, Arthur?" Gwen asks.

He nods. "I do. He's in college." It feels great to talk about it to people his age.

"Ooh, college boy, one of the other guys says, and Morgana swats at him cheerfully.

"That's awesome," she says. "Really cool."

It takes a couple weeks, but Arthur finally gets up the nerve to sit with Gwen and Morgana in the cafeteria. "We're proud of you," Gwen says kindly. "That had to be hard."

His teammates do look perplexed, but Lancelot shrugs and grins, and Leon looks pretty cool with it too. He catches up to Arthur later, after psychology class.

"So," he says awkwardly. "You got a- um- you seeing someone?"

"Yeah," Arthur says, "I guess I am."

"From the party?" Leon asks.

"Yeah," Arthur says again. "A really cool person. He," he adds. "He's a really cool person."

"Well," Leon says, and he's fumbling a little but he doesn't look totally freaked out, which is cool. "I think that's awesome. Like, really brave. I support you, man."

"Thanks," Arthur says, and slaps him on the back. "You're a good friend."

He and Merlin take things slowly. Merlin never pushes him, even though he's had other boyfriends before, and he's not a virgin or anything. He never makes Arthur feel like he's being a prude, and he's a completely unselfish person. By the end of November, the championships are over. They made it all the way to states, and Merlin was at all his games. They spend a lot of time doing homework together in the bookstore, which it turns out Merlin is the manager of. Sometimes Merlin comes over to watch a movie, and Arthur's dad is nice about not bothering them too much as long as they're in the living room. Arthur goes over to Merlin's dorm pretty regularly, too, and meets his roommate.

"My friends want to meet you," he says, one day in early December. They just had their first snowfall, a little early this year, and Merlin's blue hat is dusted in white. He looks brighter than the twinkly lights the neighbors are starting to put up, and very happy.

"Awesome," he says. "I want you to meet my friends, too."

Merlin and Morgana get along immediately. Morgana is taking a college class along with her regular stuff, and she gets to leave school early twice a week for it. They talk about literature, which is Morgana's thing, and then Merlin asks Gwen questions about the colleges she's looking at, and some stuff about chemistry that Arthur doesn't really understand, but makes his heart swell up regardless.

Merlin's friends are cool too, mainly artsy types with cool, edgy haircuts and shirts with retro sci-fi logos on them. His best friend is named Will, and he's a bit of a sports fan, so Arthur's able to talk to him pretty easily.

Afterward, they lay curled together under Merlin's comforter, just kissing and rubbing lazily together. They've progressed to touching each other a little while ago, and Arthur's just starting to think that he's read enough online articles about giving head to be ready to get some practical experience. Right now, though, they're both warm and sated and content, just from touching. "There's this stupid snowflake dance," Arthur says, and Merlin's arms keep him close when he tries to pull away a little, embarrassed.

"Okay," Merlin says encouragingly, and brushes Arthur's hair out of his face. "Go on."

Arthur can feel his face going red. "It's totally dumb and stuff but Morgana and Gwen are going, and everyone from QSA, and I dunno, I'm tired of not being able to talk about my boyfriend without being scared someone's gonna hear me. If I'm going to a party I wanna be able to go with you."

"Arthur Pendragon," Merlin says amusedly, "Are you asking me to the snowflake dance? To help you come out?"

"I mean- yeah," Arthur says, flustered. "But not like it's a chore or something, just because you're the only person I wanna dance with. But it's a dumb idea, you're right, lets go to the movies instead or something."

"Arthur," Merlin says, and puts a hand under his chin, drawing his head up, "Of course I'll go with you. I think it's a really lovely idea. Only, can we not do those flower pin things? They never stay on right."

"Okay," Arthur says, and hides his big dumb grin in the curve of Merlin's neck. "No flower pin things."

"I'm proud of you," Merlin mumbles, and Arthur smiles even wider and says, "Thanks."

The snowflake dance is in the school gym. Everything's decorated in silver and white, big cut out snowflakes hanging from the ceiling, and tinsel drifting all over the place. Arthur's dad insists on driving them, and he even takes pictures beforehand, back at the house, both of them in suits, Merlin grinning in that charming way he has that makes his dimples show. Merlin asks for a copy of one of the pictures, to send to his mother.

Inside, they find Gwen and Morgana. Gwen's in sparkly silver, and she looks lovely, her hair pulled up in some complicated knot. Morgana's in a perfectly fitted suit, and she looks awesome too, dangerous and a little androgynous and totally hot. Arthur tells her as much, and Merlin kisses them both on the cheek. "Ready?" Morgana asks, and Arthur takes a deep breath and nods. They all go out to the dance floor.

There's a lot of people dancing, so at first nobody seems to notice. "Don't do anything you're not comfortable with," Merlin says softly, and Arthur nods.

"I want this," he says, and though his hands are shaking, he means it. He guides Merlin's hands to his waist, and wraps his arms around Merlin's shoulders, just like the first time they met, only this time he's the one directing it. "I really want this," he says again, and they dance.

For a while it's pretty fine. People look a little confused, but to be honest, he doesn't care. All he's really paying attention to is Merlin swaying against him, and Gwen and Morgana are right next to them, looking blissed out and confident, like nothing can touch them except each other. It feels so right, almost exactly the same rush as winning the championship game, of knowing that someone cares about you no matter what, and that even if bad stuff happens, he still will.

Maybe it's inevitable, but he's still surprised when someone grabs him by the shoulder. He and Merlin are so close their mouths are almost touching, and Merlin's gazing down at him through his lashes, looking tender and happy and like he really, really wants Arthur, which is exactly how Arthur likes him to look, and then Owain's yelling "fucking faggots," and grabbing Arthur by the arm, and Merlin's mouth opens in a surprised O as Owain tries to throw a sloppy punch.

It never connects with either of them. Owain goes down with a surprised "oof," and Leon's there behind him, looking furious. "Dude," he says, and he's almost growling. "That's not okay, dude. What the fuck?"

"He's a queer!" Owain says, sounding outraged.

"So the fuck what, man," Leon says, and his voice is quiet but dangerous. "It doesn't affect you, so why the hell do you care? Arthur's our friend, okay? It's not like he wants to fuck you, you fucking piece of shit."

"Dude," Owain says, and he sounds shocked. "You're really down with this?"

"Yeah, I really am." Leon says firmly, and reaches to shake Merlin's hand. "I'm Leon. Arthur's friend."

"I'm Merlin," Merlin says. "And thanks."

"You okay?" Merlin asks, after Owain has slunk off.

"Yeah," Arthur says shakily. "It was kinda scary for a bit, but it's okay now."

"Yeah," Merlin says. "That was cool of your friend Leon."

"Yeah," Arthur repeats. "He's a surprising guy. Can I kiss you?"

"Of course," Merlin says warmly, and Arthur laughs and kisses him, in the tinsel and the glittering lights and the sound of Gwen's tinkling laugh, and realizes that whatever that feeling is that plagued him for so long, that feeling of wanting to escape his own skin, it has all gone away, replaced by the warmth of being young and happy and in love.


End file.
